I'm feeling so super sick. The yucky kind. Tummy issues. We've all been eating the same thing so I think it's just stress. I've been maxed out. Tired. Burnt out. I'm in my fluffy blanket he bought me one day when I was having a bad day. I love this blanket. It's so freaking soft. Like magical feeling. My legs are draped over him and he is rubbing them and I'm rubbing his chest occasionally resting my head on his shoulder, but also lifting it to watch Psych with him. Earlier he got me a 7up from downstairs to help with my tummy issues. I'm feeling a little better now. We laugh at the wacky coroner from Psych. And I feel my heart warm with love for this man. This man who isn't disgusted by the fact I have tummy issues and still holds me. This man who worries about me and wants to find ways to help me feel better. This man who holds me and laughs with me. And I think, "so this is love." We've been married for over 11 years. And I still struggle believing that I am actually loved. So much so that I need to write down these tender, simple, beautiful moments of ordinary love so that I don't forget them. And so that I can refer back to them when my paranoia gets the better of me and my brain tries to convince me he does not love me because of course, I am unlovable. I was having one of these episodes earlier this week. I was totally blinded to his love for me because in my hypervigilance, I picked up on some small thing he did or didn't do and my over protective amygdala told me our relationship was doomed and he did not love me so I needed to be prepared. Bless my little amygdala. Always trying to save the day. I know it means well. Even now typing this out part of me panics, "Don't talk about this, your going to jinx yourself and he'll probably leave you tomorrow!" But I take a deep breath and write on because I need to remember these moments. I need to make the memories more concrete by writing them. I need places to go to when I'm emotionally flooded and scared to bring me back to these moments of love and remind me, this is love. I am in love. I love him and he loves me. It's not the traumatic up and down emotional kind of love. It's the steady, consistent, hold you when you are sick kind of love. The love that so many people pine for. And too often, instead of relaxing in it, I'm panicking it will be taken away any moment. And it could be, I've got to accept that. But right now, it's here. And rather than panic, I want to bask in it. Soak it up. Fill my soul with this ordinary, peaceful, comfortable love. And then write about it, so it can stay with me even longer.
Today I was getting ready for church and a song was in my head. Just the tune, not the words. I vaguely remembered it being from a BYU production that my parents used to watch. I thought it was a thanksgiving one. So as a shot in the dark I asked Alexa to play "Thanksgiving praise songs from BYU". Of course she couldn't find it. But she said "Here are other songs from BYU concert choir" and then proceeded to play THE EXACT SONG I WAS LOOKING FOR. Either God or Alexa was listening to my humming. But really, though I still feel agnostic-ish, I want it to be God. I want it to be a tender mercy, them sending me a loving message through this song. And though my shoulder skeptic tried to tell me it was just a lucky coincidence, I let myself be wrapped in the moment and the loving words of the song. I imagined it like a lullaby my Heavenly Parents (Mormons believe God is both God the Mother and God the Father, two parents, that are our parents) were singing to me. Th...
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